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BILLY’S EULOGY

Wow, Billy would love this.

It could have been any day at the beach.  We would be sitting on the stand and the phone would ring.  He would always answer it.  Thank you for calling beautiful Robert Moses State Park.  Field III lifeguards.  WILLIAM F. BURKE JR. speaking, “How, may, I, help, you?”  I heard this thousands of times. There were different variations, but always the same last two lines: William F. Burke Jr. speaking.  How may I help you?

Billy loved that name.  His father was his hero and I truly believe that he aspired to be the man his father was.  I never met Billy’s dad.  But if he was anything like the son he had helped to raise, then he too was a great man.

Billy always spoke so highly of all his sisters and brothers.  He adored his nieces and nephews (please stand).  Don’t all of you ever forget, because of you, he was “SILLY UNCLE BILLY!”

Billy stepped into my life during the summer of 1977.  From that day forward, my life was changed for the better, as I’m sure all of you who knew him would concur.  Billy lived everyday as all of us aspire to live ours.  He was the most engaging person I have ever met.  Intuitive, compassionate, intelligent, thoughtful, and a fabulous sense of humor which was never ending.

His passion to learn never ceased.  He was a history buff, and loved describing the battle of Gettysburg over and over and over.  He knew it drove me crazy!

In order to reach the rank of captain in the N.Y.C. Fire Dept. he had to learn volumes of information.

Or, even if it was only a hobby, Billy learned to become a very good photographer.

His concern for others never waivered.  He was always the first one on the scene of a rescue.  Billy was the one you saw helping a mother carry her chairs and cooler off the beach when she had small children to worry about.  Helping people was second nature to Billy!

Some years ago a young lady approached the lifeguards stating that a man on the beach was harassing her.  So shaken was this girl that Billy was able to calm her to the point where she trusted him to drive her back to Manhattan.  Isabelle, as we now know her, became one of Billy’s good friends.

A few summers ago, Frank Russell called the beach to see if he could bring a good friend of his down who was quite ill.  This gentleman, living in a V.A. hospital was the oldest living Jones Beach lifeguard.  His last wish, even though confined to a wheelchair, was to swim in the ocean one last time.  Frank showed up on a pretty gloomy day.  Due mainly through the efforts of Billy, this mans last whish was fullfilled.  Arm in arm, the two of them made it into waist deep water.  Then, Billy proceeded to get him drunk!

Whether through good times or bad, he was always there for us.  Always lending a hand.  Giving some advice.  A shoulder to lean  or cry on, and the ability to keep us laughing all night.

A heart of gold.  His motto,  “Let’s do the right thing.”  And for 46 years, my good friend, you were exceptional.

Billy was a great fan!  Not only of his beloved Yankees, but of all of us here today.  He had a distinct knack for making all adults feel like kings or queens.  Children like princes and princesses.  He would build us up to be the MVP of the Super Bowl, an Oscar award winner, or a celebrity on the cover of Time magazine.  On the flip side, if he had done something well, and accolades were thrown in his direction, a sheepish look would come over his face and a quiet remark of , “That’s very kind of you, thanks.”

I don’t think many of us knew what Billy did on a daily basis.  These last six weeks have taught us well.  He has become my MVP, Oscar award winner, and cover story celebrity all in one.  Billy you are eternally our hero!

In learning of Billy’s passing, the first question usually asked of me was, “Did he have a family and children?”  At first, I said “No.”  Then I started to hear from people all over the country.  My response changed to, “You can’t even imagine!”

My youngest daughter, Britt, at first could not understand why Billy would risk his life and run into a burning building.  I tried to explain that often all he did was try and save a building.  But on Sept. 11^th his ONLY concern were the people inside.  She started to cry and said, “He was like an uncle to me.”  Then correcting herself, she replied,  “He is my uncle, he is my uncle.”

Like Britt, I, ,too thought Billy would always be there.  He was the one friend who always came to mind who would be there for Lisa if something should happen to me.  I knew he would do the right thing.

For whatever it is worth, Billy had a fabulous summer.  He said this to me.  His firehouse was falling into place.  He started swimming again after really not doing it for almost 25 years.  We had so many wonderful days and nights at the beach.

Earlier I mentioned his never ending sense of humor.  Being able to dish it out was his forte.  But his ability to be the butt of any joke and play it to the hill, showed his inner confidence.

But the sight of me, a Jew who acts and looks like an Irishmen.  Speaking about him, an Irishmen who acts and looks like a Jew.  In, of all places St. Patrick’s Cathedral.  It would tickle his fancy.  I can see him now.  Pumping his fists in the air yelling, “Yeah baby, it doesn’t get any better than this.”

These last six weeks have opened my eyes a little wider.  I’ve always, and will always consider Billy one of my dearest friends.  But I have come to realize how important he was to so many.

I’ve told my children people never really die if they are never forgotten.  So please, keep telling those stories about Billy.  Help keep him alive!

Billy was born to do what he did best.  HELP PEOPLE!!

A number of years ago we were on the stand and he had told me he had enough time in to retire.  I asked him if he was going to.  He looked at me with that Burke look, stroked his chin, and in his own goofy way said,  “All I would do is go out west and fight forest fires.”  He paused and then said, “Now that’s dangerous! Those guys are crazy.”

Danger never got in his way and I have come to appreciate what he has done for over 20 years.  His passing has been tougher on me than any I have known.  You expect your friends to be with you for most of your adult life.

Billy, Rich Zakar and myself often spoke of spending our golden years at a fictitious place we called, “The Pink Hotel.”  Sitting on the veranda, having a few cold ones.  So, to my dear, dear, friend, wherever you may be…  We all love and think of you often.  Please keep a light on and the door open.